


The Depths of Hell Will [Not] Find Us

by TaintedCure



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amputation, Blood and Gore, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Protective Mono, RK cusses when he's upset, RK needs a hug, Suicidal Thoughts, forceful amputation, mono needs a hug, no betas we die like mne, nomes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaintedCure/pseuds/TaintedCure
Summary: RK didn't want to leave his small bubble of safety within the horrific Maw, but it seems life had other plans.Now, after losing the Nomes, his will to live, and his left arm, a paper bag boy with a strange affinity for television may become the only beacon of light RK has left in this world.Please read the CW, as well as the other tags to stay safe!
Relationships: Mono & The Runaway Kid (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 111





	1. The Beginning

The little boy stumbled once again over his chained foot, the chafed skin rubbed far beyond raw and was now bleeding sluggishly. RK hissed quietly, wanting to scream in frustration over the hindrance but not daring to disturb the eerie quiet. A creak was heard overhead, the Maw once again moaning in haunted silence. 

Almost nothing lived here anymore. The once gluttonous and damned souls of the guests were nothing more now than husks rotting on the decorative Japanese-style floors. Horrified and grotesquely obese faces forever petrified made half the ship into a disturbing and macabre painting of death. RK himself never dared to wander too far in lest he find himself overwhelmed by the stench of rotting flesh. He’d have to do something about the corpses one day, but today will not be that day. Nor the next...nor the next one after.

Silence reigned over most of the Maw now that the only sources of sound were the pitter-patter of the Nomes’ footsteps, the heavy breathing and clumsy movements of the Janitor, and RK’s own clanging as the chain got stuck on literally anything that wasn’t a flat surface. The Chefs had been killed in...well, in her massacre on the way out, so at least RK didn't have to worry about a huge enemy that wasn’t blind. He’d be dead already, he thinks. 

Leaning down to grab the heavy chain, RK sighed. He never found a way to cut it off, or at least not one that wouldn’t just as easily cut his whole foot off with it. The chain hugged his ankle just tight enough that he could barely stick a single finger between the metal and his pants, but loose enough that his blood circulation wasn’t hindered. Small blessings, he guessed, though he doubted the person who placed it on him had his blood circulation in mind. He almost smiled at the unusually dark thought. He’d rather it just not be on his ankle, thanks. 

The chain was slowly eroding, rust creeping up the sides from so many dips in the depths below deck, so who knows? Maybe it’ll be gone in ten years. The question of if he’d last that long was pushed aside just as quickly as it appeared. He had food (an upside to the gluttonous nature of the guests), Nomes to rely on, and only a blind janitor to worry about. He could last ten years...probably. 

One could never be so sure anymore.

The ten year old once again thought about his situation. He had food, yes, but it was quickly rotting, and he hesitated to touch most of the meat unless he was sure what it was. The five months since the little girl in yellow left had worn down at the food, making some like fruits and vegetables nearly inedible. The only thing RK ate regularly nowadays was the numerous canned beans stacked in the back of the pantry like an afterthought. There were only about eight more cans, so he needed to start looking for alternate means of food soon. 

He tugged uselessly at his chain once again. It’s not like he had the guts or the means to hunt rats either. Even if he could stomach it without thinking about the stinking bodies a few levels above him, the manacle trapping his ankle made sneaking an almost impossible thing. He was stuck to eating on already dead (not human- oh god not human) things. The Nomes helped, but they didn’t have to eat like he did. They didn’t always remember the need for it. 

Swallowing thickly, RK continued onwards toward the lower decks where the Nomes liked to gather near the coal mine. He thinks they remember the feeling of having purpose, and that's why they enjoy being close to the black soot and coal. He didn’t understand it, though. His time as a Nome was short and bitter, like a bad nightmare he couldn’t wake from, but even so he never really felt like he understood them very well. He supposed it was normal, it’s not like they can talk.

The thick darkness stretched along the metal halls, the only light around emanating from RK’s own weak flashlight. Moving a bit faster than before- he never enjoyed the idea of being surrounded by the darkness, it brought up too many memories- RK’s feet slapping against the floor mixed with his limping gait announced his arrival to the Nomes’ ‘base.’ He was greeted by the light of at least a few dozen candles all lit in different corners of the room, turning the ominous atmosphere the Maw seemed to ooze outward into a cozy hideaway. 

The Nomes excitedly surrounded his legs, all happy to see him safely back. He supposed the worry was a bit warranted, as even though they were all used to creeping around the Janitor he was still an ever present threat living around them. 

Sometimes RK wonders how the Janitor is even still alive, but then he remembers the answer to that question likely lied in the blank gazes of the guests upstairs. 

Patting a few cone heads and hugging the others, RK giggled quietly at their happiness. Even after all these months with just them as company, his heart still swells with joy at the thought of someone happy he was still alive. Glad he was still here. Even if their company wasn’t the best, with their simple demeanors and lack of speech, they were still his best friends.

In his darkest moments, RK wonders if he’d even still be alive if not for them. 

Tugging the rags he had strapped to his back down, he glances at them again before hauling out a few matches and mini candles (those that he could pick up) from the makeshift backpack for them to use. If there was one thing he didn’t think he’d ever run out of in the Maw, it was candles. Seriously, someone important definitely had a thing for them. (That and shoes but he didn’t like to think about that)

The rest of his loot handed off to the tallest of the Nomes, RK grabbed one more Nome to hug and comfort before limping off to the farthest corner of their hideaway. He pulled more torn cloth from his pocket, stuffed there in haste due to a sudden noise that sounded like the Janitor’s ragged breathing, to start changing out the material already stuffed between his cuff and his skin. It didn’t help too much, the cloth still chafed and the skin still tore until it bled, but it was enough to keep the metal from infecting his foot every time he moved. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes and really tried, he could even forget it was there in the first place.  
His hands started shaking slightly as he worked on the ankle bandages, the slight adrenaline he wasn’t even aware was there crashing his system from the moment he stepped back into the mine. Trembling fingers paused in his work to slowly close and open his palms, working feeling back into them. RK eventually gave up on the endeavor and instead leaned back further into the corner, nearly hiding himself fully by making himself even smaller. The light flickered again, drawing strange and malformed shadows on the metal and slightly damp floors of the Maw. RK found himself getting lost in them, his thoughts drifting off as the light grew dimmer.

____________________________________________________________________________

RK needed food. 

The can stores were depleted, he couldn’t put this off anymore. He needed food. 

The idea of getting food always weighed heavy on his mind, it represented a huge problem with him living there with the Nomes who didn’t need food to survive. He would not couldnotshouldnotWILLnot lower himself to eating the prepared meat with the huge implication of cannibalism hanging over his head as heavy as it did. Thus, he had to find alternate means. 

RK knew he had to start in the kitchen, it’s where he found the cans of food, and it’s likely where he’ll find other kinds too. The chefs were already dead, and the Janitor rarely if ever patrolled that area anymore. Hell, he’d start eating the pet food (Did they have pets here? Did they eat those too?) if he had to. Letting out a large exhale and steeling himself mentally and physically for a longer trip, RK grabbed his makeshift backpack again, re-tied the bandages around his ankle that were getting loose, and did his best to stuff the lagging chain in it’s own loop along with his ankle. It mostly worked as long as he didn’t jar it. 

He wasn’t going to go alone, as another set of hands was vastly preferable than just one. Looking around at the Nomes gathered in their own little groups, he picked one he’d inwardly named ‘Jumpy’ and walked over. 

“Hey. I’m going out again, can you come with me?” RK softly mumbled. He’d habitually stopped speaking at a normal volume, too wary of nearby enemies or threats. Rubbing the large scar at his neck nervously, he reached out a hand to the excitable Nome. Without hesitation it grabbed his hand back and they started off towards the exit together. RK waved at the rest of the group over his shoulder, promising to return in a day or so.

The first half of their ‘journey’ was quiet. The janitor’s usual patrol should have him up near the dining halls, RK noted. He’d painstakingly kept careful note of when and where the janitor was most of the time. He couldn’t tell time, the Maw and his own limitations stopped that, but he could make note of where the elevator was and scratch into the walls the pattern of floor levels.  
Creeping quietly and still making sure to check around corners before they proceeded, RK didn’t live this long by recklessly wandering around the halls, they soon reached the kitchen door. Boosting the Nome up, it quickly grasped the handle and levered it downwards using the Nome’s own weight. The door creaked open with little resistance. The kitchen was two floors under the dining hall, and the janitor didn’t come here until after he visited the toy room, so RK guessed they had some time to look around. 

The Nome split off from him as soon as they walked in, not really interested in finding food but rather in looking around the giant workspace, perhaps for some more candles. RK let it be, not really needing the Nome until he came upon some kind of switch too far to reach or something. The chain was still neatly shoved into the cuff itself, so RK felt secure in thinking it wouldn’t come loose if he climbed the cabinets to the top of the shelf and jumped to the rafters above. 

From above, the kitchen was easier to map out in RK’s mind. He could see the Nome helplessly trying to reach a table full of old spoiled meat, and internally thanked whatever God abandoned them that it couldn’t reach the ledge. Just because Nomes didn’t need to eat doesn’t mean they didn’t like to shove strange things in their mouth. Honestly, sometimes RK felt more like a mom than a companion, he rolled his eyes. 

The Nome’s antics aside, the pantry (where he’d found the cans the first time) was ajar, allowing RK to see the stark emptiness within it. No cans, no other types of food either. The situation was looking more and more dire as RK’s combined lack of preparedness, hesitation and ultimately procrastination quickly increased his desire for food. His stomach rumbled ominously. 

Fists clenched in anger, mostly at himself but a little at the Nome still trying to put poison in its mouth, RK huffed in annoyance. Calm down, calm down. He still hadn’t checked the rest of the kitchen, perhaps something was stored away, hidden from tiny hands. 

Slightly more optimistic now, RK cautiously walked back down to the cabinet near the rafters, praying that his chain wouldn’t come untucked and trip him up at this height. Putting his butt to the wood underneath him, he scooched down the side until his feet hung just over the painted white cabinet he used to climb up in the first place. With a small leap of his heart and legs, he once again stood on top the cabinet. The climb back down was easy, as the countless knobs provided easy ledges to put his feet on. RK turned around to address the mischievous Nome. 

It wasn’t there. 

No big deal, the Nomes were constantly on the move, only really pausing to hide from potential predators. RK only paused a moment before continuing to look around the kitchen. It wouldn’t have gone too far. 

Thankfully, the closest cabinet near him didn’t require the Nome’s assistance to open. The door was already slightly ajar, so all RK had to do was push it a little for the aged door to open. The inside was barren, nothing but old bloodstains and the iron scent of blood emanating from it. Disgusted and slightly nervous at the sight, RK closed it fully. The next few cabinets were the same, easy to open but nothing of actual worth inside except a moldy chip and a dead cockroach. Feeling more helpless than ever the small child opened up the last cabinet, this time with a bit more effort as the hinges on the door had rusted badly, already expecting to see an empty cabinet. 

Nothing, again.

RK’s stomach, as if summoned, loudly protested this lack of development. Wrapping thin arms around himself and his rumbling tummy, RK felt only slightly better than before. It doesn’t really work if the only thing comforting you is yourself, he surmised. The Nomes would have let him hug them. He always felt better after holding them to himself, even if sometimes he wished he was the one being hugged instead. Shaking off the depressing thought, RK turned towards the counter tops. 

Wishing the Nome were here with him to actually assist like it had promised, RK readied himself to jump onto the ledge above him. Leaping up, his fingers skimmed the ledge before dropping back down again, unable to get a grip on it fast enough. The force when he landed back onto the floor jarred his injured foot, pulling a strained hiss from the boys lips. The chain was loose again, but RK ignored it in lieu of trying to grab the ledge again. His foot ached like it was on fire - he certainly felt something wet drip down onto his bare foot- but regardless he managed to grasp the ledge and heave himself up onto the counter. 

Turning around so he lied on his back staring up at the rafters, RK tried to catch his breath. Chest heaving in exertion, he reminded himself firmly to thoroughly shun Jumpy once he showed himself again. He won’t even look at Jumpy for the next week! A month, even! Infinity!

Little hands braced themselves against the table to push himself up. Once steady, RK limped further away from the edge and moved onto the delicate ceramic holding containers that lined the countertop. Some were dull colored, dusty, chipped and scratched as if handled roughly. Others, on the other hand, were brightly colored (though still dulled with age), with small flowery patterns stenciled on them. RK found himself shocked by their oddly cheerful presence; he hadn’t seen anything that wasn’t dark, dreary and foreboding in a long while. They were especially strange to see in a place that was known for its taboo cooking habits and thirst for the blood of children.

The containers were about his height, so it took some maneuvering to be able to get them open and look inside. All were empty except one. Ironically, it was the dark and scratched container that held his prize. Inside were...he wasn’t quite sure what they were except they looked and smelled like food. They were small (though small was relative when considering his height was only about three and a half inches max), colored beans. The bag they were held in had words written on the top ‘jelly beans’ but RK didn’t understand them. 

Dipping his hand inside to grab the food from inside, RK gently tipped the ceramic to allow for the food to slide out easier. As soon as the colorful bag came out, the little boy teared a bit of the plastic to access the assumed food inside. Grabbing two beans- one in each hand- the boy stuffed one in his mouth immediately, only really able to get about half inside before biting it off. 

They were delicious! The overly sweet flavoring made his mouth water even more. It seems like age didn’t do a thing to the taste, as it still pulled a delighted hum from his torn throat. Sitting down and now in no hurry to leave, the boy spent the next few minutes happily chowing down on his new sweet delights. He was only able to eat six of the beans, but his stomach stopped growling so he guessed it was okay. 

Pulling the bag closer to himself, the child carefully wrapped the plastic around itself to prevent any beans falling out of his backpack, and prepared to leave with a satisfied smile on his face. It wouldn’t last that long, but it was enough for now. He’d come back another day.

RK sat on the ledge and carefully, still remembering his leg (not that it was hard to forget), lowered himself back down to the floor. The jump down was still a little jarring, but tolerable. Looking around for his lost friend, RK hesitated before whistling into the still air. The Nome was not back.

He waited, whistled again. Nothing.

Where was Jumpy? The Nome couldn’t have just left without him. They were a little dumb now and again, but they were always loyal. RK’s heart started to pump a bit faster now, almost pushing itself out of his chest. Adrenaline rose up as more seconds passed and still no sign of the little Nome he gave a name to. Turning around and running out the door despite his hurt ankle, RK looked for the Nome down the hall hoping it may have just gotten a bit further. No dice.

RK didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t find Jumpy. He couldn’t even calm himself down long enough to think about what to do now. There was no way this could happen. No way no way no way no way. The Nomes were his responsibility. They were his friends, his companions, his confidants. If one died because of him… Viciously pulling at his hair and shaking his head, RK darted down the hall towards the vent they arrived in and slid into the opening right as he heard the damning ‘ding!’ of the elevator door arriving. 

Immediately, RK stilled and held his breaths. His little chest heaved with the effort of reigning in his breath, but he knew if he wanted to live he’d have to put up with the discomfort. He crouched lowly to the ground and pushed a hand against his mouth, hard. He was sure he’d end up with bruises after this, but it seemed worth it when a ginormous and unnaturally long arm with grasping hands and spindly, sickly fingers slid into view. The Janitor. 

The janitor probably wasn’t the scariest thing RK had ever seen, no, that title went to a little girl with a yellow hood and sharp sharp pointy HurTing teeth, however it certainly wasn’t pleasant to look at. Its skin was greyish and ashen, with hands and teeth that could rip a child’s intestines out. Strangely, the Janitor’s eyes were covered (presumably to hide an injury, likely the one that blinded him) and a small brown bowler hat perched upon it’s disgusting head. RK to this day still wasn’t sure how it stayed up there. 

The large being dragged its unholy body up the hallway towards the kitchen where RK had just been. The door was widened to accommodate the hulking body as it headed further in. The boy nervously shifted, all too conscious of how close he may have been to getting eaten had he been distracted for any longer. The thumping of his heart alerted RK to the need for air, removing his hand he simply breathed for a moment. He heard a skitter from the kitchen that the janitor disappeared into.

The Nome! 

RK stilled again, annoyingly the second time in as many minutes. There's no way, right? After all, if it was in there it would have come out when he called it right? Right?! Suddenly, the mischievous nature of the smaller being rang alarm bells in his head. Red, bright, blaring alarm bells that shook RK’s entire mental being, along with his body. Trembling now, because of course the Nome was hiding from him. Of course it was supposed to be a funny game. Of course the Nome was about to get eaten because of a stupid game! 

For a split second, merely a moment, RK considered leaving him behind. He’d be safe, the Nome only got the consequences of his actions, why should he have to pay for them? As the thought came, however, it was just as quickly waved away by an ashamed RK. How could he even consider that? The Nomes always helped him, how could he turn them away when they needed help?! There was no way RK would leave the Nome. Not now, not after all this. 

Ok RK, you can do this. Just save the Nome, just go in there, distract the big scary monster man, and save the Nome. Another thump resounded into the hall from the kitchen, this time louder and somehow more urgent. Decision quickly made, he sprinted out from the darkness of the vent and into the doorway of the kitchen. 

There the janitor was, hands sprawled out in every direction trying his best to snatch the small and flighty cone-headed figure from the ground. The monster clearly knew the Nome was there, just out of reach. A flying and grotesque finger just barely missed bumping into the terrified creature, and RK didn’t think. 

“Hey!” 

It was the loudest he’d ever spoken in a long while, perhaps years if he didn’t count his screams. It was also the worst possible time he could have ever done so, but it worked. The Janitor, attention now thoroughly stolen from the Nome, whipped around faster than RK had ever seen him move. Immediately the child leapt to the right to narrowly dodge a flying hand aiming for his voice. The hand was even more disgusting up close, loose flesh hanging around it’s nails and drooping down it’s wrist like twisted sleeves. It smelled like garbage and strangely, smoke.

Before he could even get his thoughts together, RKs legs moved without his say so. He ran out of the doorway and skidded to the left, the opposite of where the vent was located and further away from the Nome’s escape route. RK, in the back of his panicked mind, desperately hoped the smaller creature got the implied message. 

His feet took him down the long hall, the lumbering mass behind him quickly closing in, he just knew it. RK wasn’t too sure, but he could have sworn he felt the gross warm breath of the creature slide down the back of his neck and back. Shivers crawled up his spine as he ran for his life. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts: what does he do now? Where can he go? The kitchen was relatively familiar but it’s not like he made it a habit to explore the area the very same creature behind him did. His goal was complete, the Nome was safe, but now what? All he can do is pray that he finds a vent or some other way to hide and get out. 

The creature was even closer now, every surprisingly fast step causing him to bounce off the floor from the uneven weight difference and the force of the janitor’s steps. He didn’t want to die! He didn’t survive that bitch just to die at the hands of this asshole. 

RK turned the next corner and almost screamed in pure relief. There, a few feet away from himself was a vent just small enough to allow him access. His heart soared with safety a mere step away. He continued running-

-and tripped on the chain still hanging from his cuff. 

All thoughts halted as his vision was met with nothing but floorboards and the damning feeling of heavy breathing on his back. He swore the thing chuckled. A disgusting hand wrapped its long fingers around his torso and lifted him up to its face. Its eyes were hidden, but RK thought that if they weren’t, he’d see sick joy gleaming in them. Bloodied teeth, sharpened on the bones of the guests upstairs and children like him, drew ever nearer like a death toll. RK’s heart sunk way, way down into his stomach and became an aching and unbreakable pressure. It was like his heart weighed a hundred pounds and his breaths became even more labored. Dread like nothing he’d ever felt rose up within him like a tidal wave of anxiety and the deep, dark knowledge that he’d die here. 

This was it. He’d survived the machinations of the Lady, he’d survived the ravenous hunger of S-Six, and this is where his story ends. At the jaws of the janitor, an adult he’d almost stopped worrying about in his third month living in close proximity. 

The irony. 

All his thoughts flashed by in a millisecond, but that was all the time he had before his arm exploded in white hot agony. Teeth, sharp as knives and thin as needles ripped through his arm like it was soft butter. Blood appeared everywhere and blinded him, red appearing everywhere in his vision. He couldn’t see-couldn’t think- why does it hurt so bad?! Wetness dribbled down the monster’s lips as it smiled and licked it’s chops. Someone was screaming. His throat hurt. Why did it hurt so bad - was he being bad? Did he deserve this? Please, someone make it stop. Make it stop make it stop make it stop! 

His body twisted and squirmed as he tried to get away from the pain and agony as hot lava traveled in his veins to his arm. What was left of it. Nothing more than hanging flesh. NOthing more nothing more nothing more nothing more. Oh god. 

The screaming hadn’t stopped, but the monster still dropped him like a used toy. Why can’t he just end it?! He gets it- he's a bad boy! Please make it stop! His limp body bounced once on the floor, it didn’t even compete with the piercing torture of his arm missing. 

Suddenly, a haze fell over him like a thin film. A detached feeling that RK couldn’t quite understand, but he was thankful for anyway. The pain didn’t disappear, not by a long shot, but rather it felt like it was far away - not his problem. Through blurry eyes filled with his own blood and tears, RK thought he could see Jumpy in the background moving its arms around wildly. RK selfishly wished Jumpy really was here with him, then he wouldn’t die alone like he always worried he would. But...no, best the Nome was safe at the base with the rest of his kind. Then his sacrifice wouldn’t have been in vain. 

RK could be happy with that. He didn’t deserve a lot, he knew, but he could live with someone else living for him. 

The fractured remains of his mind and arm seeped away from his body in a slow but steady pace. Best he died here, now, rather than later. Didn’t want to get his hopes up by lasting too long. Who knows, it may only have gotten worse. This is for the best. He knew it. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Days flew by in a blurry haze, nothing truly becoming real to him. Nothing woke him, but he knew he wasn’t dead. If he was, he probably wouldn’t be feeling anything, he figured. Instead he felt raw agony travelling up his left arm constantly. Sometimes it hurt more than other times, sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes he could feel himself screaming, sometimes he only heard it. Time isn't real. He wasn’t real. He didn’t want to be real. 

The day he woke was one of the lowest days of his life. 

He’d awoken back at the hideaway for Nomes, surrounded by various different cloths and Nomes worryingly nudging at him to stay down. His arm was on fire, and he wanted nothing more than for the pain to disappear. His head ached something fierce and his eyes burned. He couldn’t speak because his throat had closed up from all the screaming. His arm, when he finally plucked up enough courage to weakly turn his head and look at it, was gone. It it’s stead was more cloth, held tightly with a zip tie to stop the flow of blood from killing him all the way. 

This was all to be expected if he woke up, but it’s what he learned next that broke a part of him that created a sharp, bone-deep pain not even his arm could contend with. 

It had been a few weeks of his attention phasing in and out of consciousness. His mind couldn’t quite stick to anything in particular, and true thoughts were just clouds passing in the wind to him. He felt detached again, like a kite in a tempest, just holding on by the thinnest thread. He woke up three weeks later- arm still in agony but that was the new normal now. His throat still hurt, so he couldn’t yell (not that he wanted to) but it was better than before. 

It took two more weeks for him to stop whimpering every time he got to his feet and tried to walk. His balance slowly improved with the help of the Nomes to lean on, and they luckily remembered to give him water and feed him with the jelly beans still miraculously in his pack. It still hurt, but he’d slowly gotten better. 

Now, five weeks later, he’s met with a question he guiltily thought he should have asked much, much sooner. “Where’s the Nome I left with?” 

A stillness. The unnatural sight of all the nomes standing quietly still sent chills down RK’s spine. Where was Jumpy? He should’ve been back, right?

RK laughed nervously, his mind jumping to the clear answer but his heart refusing to hear it. “He-He didn’t get...get lost r-right?” his soft voice croaked out. Surely the Nome just got lost on the way out. It can’t be dead. His friend can’t be dead, not after all that!

The Nome closest to him simply lowered it’s head and shook it sadly. 

RK started blankly. Information wasn’t being processed, he was looking but not seeing. His heart, he thinks, stopped. His hands chilled to a coldness beyond comprehension, like the freezing layers of hell erupted from below to softly caress his skin. The only thought he had was “I have to go.” 

With that, RK turned around and limped out the way he came, dully noting the blood staining the floor, like something had been dragged inside. Like his body had been dragged. His and not the Nome. 

The lack of a whole limb made his gait a bit awkward, as he had to lean heavily to overcompensate for the lack of weight. Something to work on, he supposed distantly. The manacle was still there, an ever present annoyance but still RK couldn’t muster enough energy to care right now. 

The trek back was hard and painful, but RK had been slipping in and out of his detached mind for a while now so the pain didn’t pose too much of a problem as long as he could ignore it. Remember the Nome, remember what he now has to pay for. 

Remember he didn’t save it. 

The only hardship RK actively thought about was keeping quiet. It was even harder now to remember how to breathe normally and quietly, and how to avoid clanging his chains behind his every step. He wished his leg had been torn off instead, RK thought morbidly. 

He got to the kitchen, following his own bloodstains to do so. A constant reminder, he giggled, a little unstable now. 

The body was nowhere to be found. Only a hand. A hand a hand a hand a small papery hand detached from its whole. Then and there RK knew. 

He’d never see the rest of Jumpy. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

The trip back was even easier than the way to the kitchen. This time he didn’t try to keep quiet. Didn’t try to hide himself. Hell, he stepped in the middle of the hall and made a little game with himself to try and hit all the nails from the floorboards with his loud chain. By a stroke of outstanding luck - or devastating bad luck - nothing emerged from the shadows. 

Nothing but his thoughts, RK thought. Glazed brown eyes threatened to shed tears, but none came. He limped back to the hideout. 

Four more months passed. He was eleven now. 

The pain was better, not gone but better. He could walk in a straight line, only sometimes stumbling. He hadn’t had anything to eat in four days. The Nomes had to remind him when he went on too long without. 

The jellybeans no longer tasted like anything except ash. 

A week after his birthday, without warning a massive hand crashed through the roof and scooped up three Nomes huddled by one of the candles. Came back, scooped up the rest that didn’t get out fast enough. The sound of chewing haunts his ears. 

RK didn’t bother getting up. He’d learned long ago that he wasn’t meant to live very long. Not in this world - it was a harsh and futile effort only spoiled by the twisted truth of death. 

The hand missed him every time. The blind man couldn’t see him. RK sobbed.

Two days later, a new pair of footsteps started at the end of the vent leading into the desolate and empty hideaway. Nothing remained but ghosts and RK, huddled tightly and quietly in the corner of the room

As the footsteps got louder, a taller boy with a paper bag on his head stepped cautiously into RK’s view.


	2. The Boy in the Paper Bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm stress writing. Not really sure I like this chapter all that much.

Silence stretched over both children. 

Mono didn’t expect to see someone when he walked into the small room. He certainly didn’t expect to see someone his size huddled timidly against the far wall, looking two steps from death’s doorway. The figure shivered violently for a moment, before going still again. 

“Hey…” Mono softly uttered to them. 

Mono only went into the room to look for the Nome who’d been leading him forwards for the last couple hours. He had looked away only for a moment when he heard a noise above him, but that was all the Nome needed to slip away unnoticed. Mono had been spending the last five minutes frustratedly looking into empty vents and inside cracks on the aged wall for the flighty creature. 

The whole place gave him the creeps! It’s like every minute or so there’s a creak or a groan from the ship. He figured it was the ocean and waves rising and falling around him, but that just made him even more wary that the whole place was going to split apart and disappear into the sea. Especially now that all the previous residents except the Nomes were nothing but piled up corpses, or so he thought. 

With small, broadcasted steps to show that he meant no harm, Mono slowly approached the huddled child in the corner. The figure, after its initial movement, didn’t move at his advance. They either couldn’t, or they just didn’t care.

Getting as close as he dared - about a foot away - Mono raised his hands in the universal ‘I mean no harm’ symbol, and crouched down to be level with the figure's lowered face. 

“Are you okay?” Mono whispered, unsure of why he whispered but positive it had been the right thing to do.

Looking closer, they clearly weren’t okay. They had long brown hair long that was stained and matted with what Mono assumed was old blood. The morbid substance covered not only his hair, but all of his clothes down to the other’s pants. The tragic figure was rail-thin, thinner than even Mono himself- who hadn’t eaten in the last two days due to the lack of food or rats in the ship he found himself in. Mono surmised that the other kid had been here much longer than he, and probably ran out of food more than just a few days ago. Perhaps he’d been rationing for weeks now. He might be too weak to move or speak.

The urge to comfort the lonely figure overcame Mono, but he stiffly held himself back from potentially scaring his fellow child. 

The unknown child’s face was mostly hidden by his hair, but even so Mono could still see a glimpse of half-lidded eyes, dark in color, and with heavy purple underlining the kid’s exhaustion. A pert nose placed above thin and chapped lips completed the kid - now clearly a boy’s- face. He was pale, thin, and clearly in need of some sleep. A large, nasty looking scar stretched from right under his jaw down to the lower right shoulder. Almost like something tried to take a bite out of his neck.

Mono had seen enough.

Pulling the paper bag farther down his face in silent resolution, the masked child crept closer to the other. He was unsure of whether the other’s half-lidded eyes meant he was conscious and ignoring Mono, or just couldn’t muster the strength to do or say anything. Hopefully -or not, maybe- the latter was true. 

When Mono got close enough to the boy, about an inch or two away, the smaller jerked -flinched, really- violently away from Mono. He couldn’t go farther than the corner he’d already hunched into, and so the resulting movement only achieved the boy banging his head against the cold metal of the wall. Mono winced at the loud noise, listening for a quick moment as the sound reverberated throughout the room. He couldn’t see very well in the light, but he was sure a smear was left behind. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you… Please don’t be scared.” Mono softly reassured him. Reaching out now to bridge the empty space between them, Mono tried to hold the other’s shoulder in a comforting grasp. 

The other boy however, was not reassured nor comforted in the least. Putting up a token struggle but ultimately tiring quickly due to the effort, the boy could only whimper and tug sharply at his own hair in protest. That can’t be healthy, why was he hurting himself? 

Mono shifted his aim to grip at the other’s hand rather than just his shoulder, hoping to stop the movement that only sought to hurt the other. He tightly held the pale, thin and shivering hand in his own, muttering a quiet yet sincere “Stop that.” as he fruitlessly tried to still the shaking with his own steadier grip. The other could barely manage an annoyed and tremulous huff at Mono, he guessed that it was because the other didn’t want help, but Mono internally decided to override him anyway. Loosening his grip now that the smaller boy had stopped trying to fight him, Mono shuffled past that last inch to where now they sat with their thighs pressing together and their face inches apart from each other, separated only by the thin lining of Mono’s paper bag. 

“You need help,” Mono whispered into the darkness, staring intently into the boy’s lidded eyes, not that he could see. “but don’t worry, I want to help you. I can, right?” Mono asked, a little pointlessly. 

Mono didn’t really think the boy would say no, he thought anyone would want help if they truly needed it. To have the boy so boldly and without hesitation shake his head weakly at the question seemed not just foolish, but nonsensical, and sent a feeling of discomfort through Mono. Why wouldn’t he want help? It looks like it’s the very first thing he needs, in Mono’s opinion. Now Mono wasn’t one to force anybody to do anything, but...he needed his help! 

Biting his lip in frustration and anxiety, unseen by the other behind his bag, Mono leaned back from his close proximity, let go of the other’s hand, and straightened up to look at the kid again. Bloodstained and limply leaning into the corner with barely an inhale of breath, the smaller seemed to be dying by the minute, his soul slipping further and further away from his mortal body. 

Mono made an executive decision. This boy’s mind was messed up from all the blood and hunger. He wasn’t thinking straight, and it was the bag-headed boy’s responsibility now to save him. He decided that, and that was that. He really hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this.

And if Mono was being a bit selfish for wanting some company after a long, long while, well that was his business. His and the missing Nome, Mono supposed.

Thinking quickly about how he was going to do this, Mono appraised the boy’s weight for a moment before ultimately deciding that he could carry it. The boy was thinner and shorter than he himself was, so Mono figured he had probably carried heavier things before. Leaning back into the poor kid’s face again, Mono met those glazed and darkened eyes again and proclaimed with false confidence:

“I’m helping you anyway.” and because Mono couldn’t maintain his stern countenance for too long, he added “I’m sorry.” For his part, Mono was genuinely sorry to go against the boy’s wishes, but he knew he’d be even sorrier if he left the other here in this dark and cold room alone to die.  
____________________________________________________________________________

RK didn’t know what to make of the other boy. For one, the taller wore a paper bag over his head, so clearly he must have a few screws loose. If RK cared even a little bit more he might have tried to do something more drastic to defend himself, like bite the other boy.

RK shivered at the comparison, his humor was really starting to take a dark turn, or two. 

But, since RK didn’t care anymore, he instead just watched dispassionately as the other slowly approached RK’s hunched over body. His heart only started truly panicking when the boy began reaching for him. He couldn’t help it, RK’s remaining hand slipped unbidden to start tugging harshly on a strand of dirty hair, whimpers escaping from his throat at the painful feeling.

A warm hand enveloped his, obscuring RK’s blurry view of his bloodied legs. The hand tugged lightly at the offending action, before more firmly pulling it away from his hair when RK didn’t stop fast enough. The foreign hand remained there for a moment as the other uttered something that RK didn’t catch, before a face (or rather, a paper bag with two holes cut out of it. What?) leaned into his field of vision. He asked if RK wanted his help? No! No, just let him die. There wasn’t a lot to live for, and it’s not like he’d be any safer now or ten years from now. He didn’t want to live this hunted life where he just gets others killed in a desperate bid for survival, it’s just not worth living. Not anymore.

Not after his arm.

RK weakly shook his head, his vision swimming with just the small movements. He was so, so hungry, and his nightmares wouldn’t let him rest. The chill nipped at his cheeks again, already settled into his bones in a freeze that RK isn’t sure will ever wear away. He needed this to end, that’s what he needed. No help. Never help. He refused to get someone killed again. Not even this weirdo who's a bit too touchy in RK’s opinion.

How did he even get here? 

The taller thankfully leaned back out of his vision, letting go of RK’s hand and giving RK breathing room. The paper bag boy seemed to think to himself for a moment. Internally RK hoped he was considering leaving the smaller alone, and going back to whatever he was doing beforehand. That would be best for both of them. Leave him alone. Please. 

Whatever RK wanted clearly didn’t matter to the rest of the universe, however, as the boy got closer again. Face- to -bag and almost chest to chest with RK, he said “I’m helping you anyway.” a short pause, “I’m sorry.” he finished, before looping one of his arms under RK’s already bent legs. 

What the hell? Wh-why isn’t he going away? No, damn it! RK struggled weakly, trying to push the other’s hands away with his own but failing miserably. His legs kicked out vainly but met no resistance as the taller boy had already positioned RK to face slightly away from him and towards the wall. The other didn’t even pause in his motions, easily continuing to pull RK closer to his chest with little trouble. Fragile limbs flailed around wildly with what little remaining strength RK had left, but it was too late. The masked boy had already pulled him away from the wall and seen what RK really hadn’t wanted him to notice. 

It’s not like he was ashamed of his missing arm or anything, although the thought of how he lost it still hung heavy around his neck at times, but he really didn’t want the taller boy to think of him as helpless either. He wasn’t. He was making a conscious choice to die. He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t! He’s not a pitiful child in need of attention, just leave him alone. 

The boy gasped in shock, making RK lower his head into his shoulders with embarrassment and self-consciousness, and unintentionally further into the other kid’s long coat. He wanted to leave. Even better, he wanted the other kid to leave. At least let RK dig a hole and bury himself in it, that’d be ideal - two birds one stone and all that. 

“Are you okay?! How did it happen? I didn’t even notice until now but it must hurt a lot right? Do you need something? Does it hurt to hold you like this? I’m sorry! I can re-adjust if you need me to, I just didn’t think you’d…” The kid rambled on, loosening his firm hold slightly and throwing out questions like bullets. RK only made it past the first sentence before tuning out.

“Go...away.” He rasped. Water had been hard to come by in his little corner of hell. His throat burned in protest.

Immediately the other child halted his words, listening intently in a way that almost unnerved RK. Why did he care so much what he had to say? In fact, why did he care about RK at all? 

“I can’t- I can’t just leave you here. It's not right.” The unknown boy stuttered. “You won't change my mind. You shouldn’t be alone out here. I…” pause, a quick inhale before continuing “Does it hurt when I carry you?” The boy changed the subject completely, a new tone of stubbornness and single-mindedness entering his voice. Clearly RK was not going to get out of this. At least not now.

With nothing more to say RK muttered a quiet denial as the other readjusted his grip anyway, arm now wrapped around his lower back and tucking RK deeper into his worn-looking yet warm coat. No doubt the masked boy had noticed the manacle attached to his ankle too, but decided not to say anything further about it. Small blessings. 

RK didn’t know how to feel about being so close to the warmth of another living being, especially one he hadn’t even seen the face of. He didn’t think he’d never been held so dearly, or at least, he didn’t remember being held like this. It was always him hugging and comforting the Nomes, never the other way around. Never him being pressed into another chest, hands wrapping securely around himself like an unspoken promise of safety. It just...didn’t happen. Now that he thinks about it, it's been a while since anything ever spoke back to him either. The Nomes didn’t know how to communicate other than through touch, so he was always just essentially speaking to himself. 

What a strange feeling, to feel like he could say something and be completely understood. How ironic that this feeling only comes after his desire to die outweighs the benefits to live. How absolutely like the cruel hands of fate to play with his desires like this. 

RK deliberately leaned slightly away from the comforting warmth. He’d not let it sway his decision. 

The other child, not noticing the small motion, moved to stand up with RK in his arms and nearly leaped off the floor when he vastly overestimated RK’s weight. RK would have chuckled had he not been in the very arms that almost dropped him. Huffing to himself in strained acceptance, RK weakly grabbed the hand splayed across his chest to anchor him better to the other. If he was forcibly being carried out, then he’d at least like to not be dropped. 

The boy laced his fingers through RK’s hand without looking down at him, startling the smaller a bit, and started to walk out the room now with RK in tow.  
____________________________________________________________________________

Mono glanced down again at the smaller boy in his arms. The previous worry about weight and getting tired on the way back was swiftly replaced with worry about the boy’s lack of weight. Mono supposed losing a whole limb would make someone considerably lighter, but surely not this light. Not fragile and thin enough that Mono could just as easily throw him as carry him. Not light enough that he could undoubtedly tell which leg he carried was heavier because of the iron clamp wrapped around one of his ankles. 

Which, by the way, what? What was a heavy chain like that doing on someone who looked like he could barely lift a finger, let alone a dragging chain? How did the other boy become like this? Mono clenched the fist not currently preoccupied with the other boy’s hand in his disquiet.

The taller once again thanked his trusty paper bag for hiding his face, because surely Mono was wearing a dark expression of vexation and badly concealed uneasiness. Unfortunately, unlike his refusal to leave the other alone to die, Mono couldn’t find a good reason to justify embracing the other without it being a purely selfish need to feel like he’s helping someone. 

He contents himself with holding the boy’s hand instead. 

Mono had thought about where he wanted to take the other, and begrudgingly decided on the little crawlspace Mono had temporarily called his own. It was too far to try and leave the ship (he thinks it’s called the Maw? How does he know that?) completely, especially now with more of the smaller’s condition coming to light. The other would never make it, even with Mono to help him out. It was closer and easier to just stay in Mono's little area for a while, at least until the boy in his arms could walk without too much trouble and gain some weight. Though Mono wondered how the boy walked in the first place with that thing strapped to his leg. 

“Name..?” The smaller boy asked, his voice barely a whisper over Mono’s own bare footsteps. 

Mono jolted a little, not actually expecting him to say anything. He thought the boy was still mad from Mono’s rough handling earlier, “I’m Mono. What’s yours?”

“RK.” 

“RK..?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, nice to meet you.” Mono said, forcing a bit of cheer in his voice to combat the strange tension in their stunted conversation. He didn’t really know how to talk to other kids, hadn’t spoken to another in quite a long while, and when he did they were short and quick words passed between two travelling children with hunted looks in their eyes and nowhere to safely stay to chat. Mono guessed he missed talking to people, but he didn’t miss the actual interaction part where few others seemed to seamlessly keep the conversation flow going. If Mono had to guess, RK likely had the same issue. 

Clearing his throat, Mono continued, “...how did you get here?”

RK was quiet for a while, long enough that Mono almost opened his mouth to retract the question before RK answered. 

“I’m...I’m not supposed to be here. I was brought by the monsters for...for dinner to serve to the guests. They kept us locked in a room and patrolled to make sure we didn’t sneak out. That’s where I got this from.” RK revealed, lightly kicking his chained foot in demonstration. 

The guests? Mono wondered if they were the piles of bodies lying in the upper floors, some half eaten. So he’d been brought to be feasted on...what a horrible fate. To have nothing to do but wait for what seems like decades in a single room until finally something happens. Either you go mad, try to force your way out, or you wither away to nothing until you're brought to the feast as the main course. 

Mono hummed in acknowledgement, not really happy with the thoughts swirling around his head but content to let RK speak. 

“I got away once, nearly got all the way out too. But then...well, something happened, and I couldn’t see myself leaving anymore.” RK shivered with...fear? Mono was unsure, unaware of the yellow jacket haunting the back of RK’s eyelids every time he closed his eyes. Maybe it was a bit colder though...Mono held RK a bit tighter to himself regardless. 

Mono felt a bit guilty just having RK give out some of his past without sharing in turn. Clearing his throat, Mono stared ahead at nothing in particular as he recounted what he knew about himself. 

“I guess I gotta go now...I don’t remember much, only waking up beside a television in an empty house. For the past few months I’ve been travelling around, looking for anyone who might know who I am. I found this place from a travel brochure, and decided that it couldn’t hurt to look. I guess we got lucky, huh?” Mono giggled nervously. “I’ve seen...a lot of terrible things, but it looks like you might have seen just as much.” 

RK kept silent, clearly listening but not interested in saying any more, or perhaps just not having the energy to. Either way, Mono couldn’t blame the mangled boy. 

“I know we don’t know each other well, but I think we could --” RK cut Mono off with a sudden hiss. Strong and sudden enough to jerk his thin body further in Mono’s arms by accident. 

“Shh!” 

Mono, through years and years of habitual sneaking, falls silent almost before RK finishes shushing him. He stops walking, listening intently whilst breathing shallowly to try and lessen their presence. For a moment nothing happens, and Mono is nearly convinced RK is messing with him until a steady thumping gait makes itself known to the right of them. 

The creature - of which Mono wasn’t aware of till now - lumbered along beside them, unseen behind the thin wall that separated the kids and the cannibal. It halted for a few heart wrenching moments, before continuing forwards. As he waited for the monster to pass, Mono could feel RK shaking like a leaf in a tornado, his remaining hand had let go of Mono’s to grasp tightly onto his own mouth as if to prevent himself from screaming. His already pale skin paled even further, and Mono distantly worried that he might pass out. 

“Please calm down.” He breathed, still very aware of the dangerous predator that lurked mere feet away. Crouching down slowly so as to not startle the other, Mono leaned his upper body over the smaller protectively, almost completely covering RK with his frame. Mono wasn’t very big himself, but he was definitely larger than RK, and that’s all he needed. Hiding the other away in his shadow from the world and it’s perceived (or in this case very real) threats. 

Minutes passed like this, with RK simply breathing (heaving really, but how can one heave silently?) into Mono’s shirt with one hand wrapped in the loose white fabric. Eventually, he fell asleep like that, his previously heaving chest now serenely rising and falling in deep sleep. The implicit trust in the gesture made Mono feel a bit better about his decision to take RK with him regardless of the other’s wishes. Mono wouldn’t dare wake him, the heavy bags under his eyes practically yelling for their need to rest. 

Carefully pulling away from his crouching, legs feeling like jelly but not in a way that hurt, Mono straightened back up to continue forwards. This time he was quieter and more cautious now that he knew of the monsters that lurked in the literal and theoretical shadows. Mono also guessed that the creature that nearly snuck up on them was the same that hurt RK in such a way that he couldn’t even hear it’s footsteps without falling into panic. Mono tightened his grip in sympathy towards the unlucky boy. 

RK was a mystery, and Mono still had so many questions for him, but for now Mono could be content that he had a companion to talk with and help out. Besides, he was never one to leave a kid, even a stranger, to their potential doom. It just doesn’t sit well with him.

Thirty more nerve-wracking minutes pass before Mono reaches his hideout, close enough to the room he found RK in, but far enough that he still felt like he put some distance between the two rooms. Mono wasn’t sure he could go back there, not with the ominous bloodstains telling a rather tragic tale, nor with the forever burned image of a helpless figure hiding in the corner waiting for death. And if he wasn’t going back to that room, RK sure wasn’t either. 

Setting RK down as carefully as he could on the cushion of fabrics Mono decided to call a bed, the taller examined his new companion. He wasn’t sure what to address first, the hunger, thirst, bloodstains, or that cuff? He wasn’t experienced in stuff like this, so all Mono could do was guess and hope the other didn’t die in his sleep. Stretching upwards to relieve his back, arms reaching above his hidden head, Mono groaned in part relief- part exhaustion. 

He’d start with the hunger. That seemed most important. Luckily on his unwitting journey towards the room RK hid in, the Nome had led him to food! Thinking quickly, the boy sat down, reached into the little bag he’d strapped to the side of his belt, and pulled out the remaining jelly beans.

Taking one for himself, Mono hesitated before softly nudging the sleeping figure beside him with his knee. RK groaned lowly before pushing his face further into the clothes, clearly not appreciating being awakened yet. Mono nudged him once more before one eye finally slid open to mutedly glare at the taller. 

Mono silently held out the treat in an unspoken request for RK to take it. An unknown emotion passed through the other’s visible eye before a frail hand eventually reached out and received the offer.

Mono was glad he took it, not really knowing what he’d do if the other refused to eat. Pulling himself back to his feet, Mono walked over to a candle stationed in the far corner of the small space and lit it. The room they were in now was much smaller than the one RK had been residing in, but Mono thought it was a nice change. They didn’t need too much space anyway. 

Glancing back over to RK, Mono noticed that he’d already fallen back asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, timeline wise I'm throwing canon out the proverbial window. Prequels are not a thing, the second game is the sequel to fit the narrative. At the moment Mono has not met Six yet and spends his time traveling around- hence how he ended up at the Maw. Six has already been to the Maw (obviously, since RK remembers her), but this is before she was captured by the hunter. As for the yellow coat, its a mass produced article of clothing, she just lost her first one. 
> 
> Also I'm still trying to get a grip on what I want Mono's character to be like, so pleasure excuse it if he seems a little all over the place.

**Author's Note:**

> I think that there are NOT enough fics about a relationship between Mono and RK (because both the babies need hugs). I'm not sure if I want to do platonic or romantic - but even if it was romantic I'm not comfortable writing anything serious like smut between two children so I'll probably have a strange mix between the two types of relationships. I also don't know too much information about amputees and recovery processes so please take everything I say about it (including days of healing and such) with a grain of salt (or a shaker, who knows?). I also ask that you suspend belief on a lot of the situations I write because honestly the LN universe doesn't really give us much anyway, so I don't feel the need to fill in too many blanks. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


End file.
